Doing an Experiment
by ifonlyifonlythewoodpeckersighs
Summary: "What the hell, Sherlock!" John bellowed. "I was doing an experiment. You'll probably thank me later." Sherlock calmly replied over his shoulder as he strode back to the kitchen and plastered his face to his microscope. Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC do.
1. Chapter 1

AN: The first three chapters of this story do not belong to me. I literally adopted this fanfiction from Thatsjusttoobad. And, being completely honest here, I really only made a few changes, mostly the way certain sentences were arranged or written. Everything that comes after the first three chapters are my writing skills building off of Thatsjusttoobad's writing skills. I can't take all the credit, the story was theirs. Anyway, please review!

A door slammed a floor below the consulting detective and angry footsteps could be heard storming up the narrow staircase. As the short doctor burst through the wood door, the skinny genius picked up a handful of peanuts and began tossing them into the air. He expertly caught each individual nut in his mouth and when he had finished with that handful, he grabbed more.

The sound of the man with raven hair crunching mixed with angry silence was maddening to the ex-army doctor. Finally, the taller of the two men broke the silence.

"Are you ever going to say what you're so angry about?" He sighed.

"What would be the point? I tell you about my day. You listen. You do your weird deduction thing. Then I get angrier and storm off to my room. I just want to sulk on the couch and watch my shows!" The other man exploded and several prolonged minutes of silence followed. The tall one stopped throwing peanuts with hurt and confusion spread across his face that the other person did not see. He already knew what was wrong as he had deduced the problem when the short, blonde man had first entered the building, but he worried that his flat mate was repressing too many emotions and also wanted to hear about the daily troubles other humans went through each day... for an experiment.

"I'm sorry." The one on the couch breathed, startling the peanut man.

"Sorry... for what?" Asked the startled man, acting like he didn't know for the sake of his 'experiment'.

"For yelling at you earlier. I had a bad day but that's no excuse to be rude. Sorry."

"John, it's really not a big deal." The curly raven haired man explained and tried to stop from saying the completely cliche phrase he knew he had to say. "I guess we all have those days. Just, um, just hang in there, because it'll get better soon."

John looked up at the man looming above him and gave him a weak, defeated smile. Reaching over for a pillow after the too short moment of lips curling up, he was stopped by a hand visibly bigger than his own.

"Wha-"

But John's questioning was stopped short as the other man's face slammed into his. John wanted to stop. He felt so wrong. John was no homophobe, but he himself had never done anything like this with another person of the same gender.

The other man was straining to get entrance into his flat mate's mouth. He grabbed the back of John's head so their kiss could remain unbroken, but the shorter of the two eventually broke free.

"What the hell, Sherlock!" John bellowed.

"I was doing an experiment. You'll probably thank me later." Sherlock calmly replied over his shoulder as he strode back to the kitchen and plastered his face to his microscope.

Several hours later, John lay wrapped up in soft blankets but very much awake with troubling thoughts swirling around his educated brain. He'd had his fantasies about the other man, but he thought they were one sided. He never even came close to imagining that Sherlock had similar attractions.

John had come home that day pissed because he had decided to brake up with his latest girlfriend, having finally given up women. But his speech had not gone as planned, and they had gotten into an oddly melodramatic argument. John shook those memories and began to try to make sense of recent events involving Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

Sun rays pierced through the split in the maroon shades, warming John's face until his eyelids flicked open. As the cogs in his brain started turning, he remembered the speech he prepared in his mind last night. John slowly got up and began preparing for the day. He turned around to start his trek to the bathroom for a shower and was immediately stopped in the doorway by a tall figure.

Sherlock looked slightly ashamed as he stood in the doorway to John's room. He started to speak, knowing what he had to do to make up for what happened the afternoon before.

"John, I-" Sherlock started, only to be interrupted by John.

"No, no, no, no, no, no." John said quickly. After a short pause, he asked, "Can we take this to the main room? I'd rather not do this in my bedroom." He said, motioning to the unmade bed and couple of pillows lying on the ground, remnants of the previous night's fitful slumber. They walked to the main room and sank down onto the couch. John rubbed his face and heaved a loud sigh. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"Ok, listen, over the past few years, um... Well, you most likely already know what I'm going to say, but..." John stopped and looked up at his friend. That was the first time he really looked at Sherlock that day. John may not have been the most brilliant man planet Earth has ever known, but he had picked up some things living with Sherlock for a few years. So, the doctor started deducing the detective for a change.

Sherlock rarely slept, but he usually did when he had no case. However, last night he had stayed up pacing around his chair, judging by the dark circles around his diamond like eyes. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before and hadn't ever bothered to turn out the light. Obviously, Sherlock was trying to come up with an apology, but morning had come too swiftly and he had come up short.

John looked at him. For days, it seemed, but looking at him made the shorter man decide not to say anything else. He got up and walked to the kitchen. John was leaning against the table, trying to figure out what to do. Having been so emotionally invested in the matter at hand, he didn't even notice at first when Sherlock hugged him from behind. When he did realize it, John ripped out of the grasp of the slender arms and stormed back to his bedroom, yelling, "Sorry, but I can't do this. Not... not now!"

The detective heard John's door slam and sank down into his chair. Not being able to fight his body's need for sleep, Sherlock's eyes slid shut.


	3. Chapter 3

There was blood covering every inch of his body. Sherlock could only stand by as he watched the light leave his best friend's night blue eyes. If it hadn't been for the rag stuffed in his mouth, Sherlock would've been screaming for John not to leave him. Not like this.

Sherlock's ears went on hyper alert with the sound of footsteps hitting the floor right outside the room he was stuffed in. At this point, he didn't care what happened to him. Sherlock felt empty without John, and wanted to die.

A man in a pristine suit grabbed a fistful of black curls and jerked the great detective's head up, tearing Sherlock's gaze away from the lifeless doctor. Blue-grey eyes slid up to look at the man who was to blame. Sherlock tried to struggle and squirm away when he saw the face of his ultimate foe, Jim Moriarty. However, the madman just tightened his grip on the genius and pulled out a large knife, covered in wet blood, indicating that it had recently been used. That explained the earlier screams seeping through the steel walls from the other rooms. Moriarty let go of Sherlock's wild hair to step back so he could have a better angle to-

Sherlock woke with a start. He looked around his room, still dazed from his nightmare, and groggily realized he had a death grip on one of his pillows. Putting it back on his bed, Sherlock called for John. Almost immediately, John swung the door open and leaned in.

"Whaaaat Sherlock? I'm kind of busy." John whined.

Sherlock looked shocked, which made him feel weird, for he was never shocked. In all actuality, he was just relieved that John was ok, and that it had really just been a nasty dream. "I'm just checking on you to make sure you're..." Sherlock stopped. He noticed that John smelled slightly of liquor and smoke. "Have you been at a bar?" Sherlock growled at the other man. John brought his hand up to his forehead and closed his eyes like he was in pain.

"Jesus. Can you keep your voice down? Please?" Even though, in the back of his mind, John thought that his friend sounded extremely sexy when he growled.

"Sorry, I just... How did I get into my room?" Sherlock had distinctly remembered falling asleep in his chair in the main room.

"You were in here when I got here. Now will you please let me be? I'm busy." At that, John slammed the door shut, and immediately regretted it. Sherlock heard him moan in pain and tromp back to his own room.

Sherlock waited until John had made it back to his safe haven, before springing up to shower and prepare fo the day. Standing in front of the mirror half naked, waiting for the water to warm up, Sherlock stood looking at himself. He wondered why he had that dream. He also wondered why Moriarty scared him so much. Sherlock knew he had won already because Moriarty slipped up, but why was Sherlock still scared of the evil man? The mirror started to fog so Sherlock took that as his cue to enter the blasting hot water. He finished undressing and when he was turning the cold water on to make the shower bearable to get into, he heard a yelp come from the kitchen.

"John?" No answer.

"John!" Still no answer.

With the nightmare still fresh in his memories, Sherlock grabbed a towel and sprinted into the other room to rescue his John. Running into the kitchen hoping upon hope that John was fine, Sherlock forgot to put the towel on.

John was standing over the kitchen sink picking something from his hand, wincing every time he pulled one of the little things out from his skin. With closer evaluation, Sherlock saw that John had broken a plate.

That's odd, Sherlock thought. I didn't hear him break that. He continued to wonder if he had been that preoccupied with thoughts about what Moriarty might do to John, that he hadn't noticed that the doctor had been staring at him for the past couple minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: This chapter is mine, but of course, I couldn't have written it without Thatsjusttoobad's story. :)

John stared at Sherlock, who stood naked with a towel in his hand and face scrunced up in thought. Without meaning to, the doctor's eyes traveled down Sherlock's body, and he moaned as his groin hardened. Sherlock started blinking and looking around, so John moved so that the cabinets hid the lower half of his body. He looked down and continued picking the glass shards from his hand, and acted as if he hadn't even noticed Sherlock standing there. He heard the detective let out a small whimper, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Sherlock wrapped the towel around his body. John immediately regretted it. He held back another moan, and grimaced as he pulled a rather large piece of plate out of his palm. Sherlock cleared his throat, and John jumped, pretending to be startled. He looked at Sherlock and sighed with fake relief.

"Oh, I didn't see you. How long have you been standing there, exactly?" Sherlock looked relieved, and John pursed his lips, trying to ignore his throbbing erection.

"Oh, not long. I just heard you yell, and came to see if you were alright."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just broke a plate." He held up his bleeding hand, which was finally free of glass.

"Oh, ok. I'll uh... Just go take my shower now."

"Alright." John smiled, and rinsed off his hand until Sherlock walked away. Then he sighed, and after his hand was bandaged, he went to his room to take care of his problem.

When Sherlock got out of the shower, John was in his armchair, reading the newspaper. He stepped into the room and stood in front of the doctor. After a minute John looked up, and smiled confusedly.

"Can I help you?" Sherlock didn't answer at first, but then he blinked and looked around, as if he didn't remember where he was. Then he looked at John.

"No." John furrowed his eye brows, and the detective sat down in the chair across from him. He stared at the floor, lost in thought. After a minute he spoke again. "John, what were you doing earlier?"

"What?"

"When you came into my room, you asked me to leave you alone, because you were busy. What were you doing?" John sighed.

"I was just trying to make lunch. Then I broke that plate." That was truth enough. After he left Sherlock's room, he went to his own room and drank another bottle of whiskey. Then, he went to make lunch. And Sherlock had come out of the bathroom-

"Oh." John looked up. He was broken from his trail of thought by Sherlock's voice, and thanked his lucky stars. If he had finished that thought, he would have had another problem on his hands. He smiled at Sherlock, and the went back to his mind, thinking about why Sherlock made him feel like this. Then he went back to the other day, when Sherlock had kissed him.

"Sherlock, what experiment were you doing?"

"Hm?"

"When you..." John sighed. "When you kissed me." Sherlock's face turned scarlet, and he wouldn't look John in the eyes.

"Oh. I was doing an experiment on you, John. To see if you had... feelings for me. Clearly, though, you do not."

"Why would you want to know that?"

"Oh, I was... just wondering." Sherlock had such a hurt expression, and John couldn't take it. Words started tumbling out of his mouth, and the detective looked up at him in surprise.

"No, Sherlock. I do have feelings for you. I like you. I-I love you! I didn't know it, but now I do. Please don't be sad, I can't take it." John's voice dwindled away, and he blushed with embarrassment, but he refused to look away. He stared at the detective, and waited for him to speak. Sherlock looked up at him, and his face was hopeful.

"You... you like me?" His voice was quiet, and John only nodded, before standing up and kneeling in front of Sherlock's chair. His small hand carressed the detective's ivory face, and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. He gripped John's arm and pulled there bodies together. John's navy blue eyes stared into Sherlock's blue-grey ones for a minute, before his lips curled up into an excited smile, and they kissed. Sherlock's tongue ran across John's lower lip, sending a shiver down his spine. He then took John's lower lip between his teeth and lightly sucked. The doctor gasped, and Sherlock took his oppurtunity to slip his tongue in his mouth. Sherlock hoisted John up so he was straddling his lap, and John tangled his fingers in the detective's ebony curls. Sherlock moaned and broke the kiss to travel down John's throat. He turned his focus to the left, and gently bit down on John's neck and sucked. After a minute he backed away, blushing.

"Sorry, I um... got carried away." John smiled, and hooked his fingers under Sherlock's chin so he would look at him.

"Just kiss me, Sherlock." Sherlock smiled, and kissed him again.

AN: So, please review! Reviews keep me writing!


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